Romanticism
by MissAlyxandra
Summary: It's a mash up of lots of things, but mainly a fanfic of Planet of the Best King


3|Romanticism

(Based partially off of the anime Planet of the Beast King)

Chapter One

Running wildly, surviving on my own, and fear are all I had known up until the time I had met him. I'm Tally: a 17 year old girl who's on the run for her life. A life that _I want, _not the kind of life that_ the scientists_ wanted for me. They created me, and I acknowledge that, but I'm not for the experimenting, I'm for living and thriving, not a lab rat, I want to be me, not what they had made me. I want freedom, most of all, so I can find something I'm good at; a love, and a passion, and someone to share it with…. And I've found him.

His name is Syros. He hasn't told me how old he is but he told me "...not to worry about it" so I guess he's not older than 25. He's a well-built man with glistening green eyes, medium length scarlet wisps of hair, and a very slender figure to compliment his seducing facial structure. His style of clothing, as far as I'm aware of, is strictly casual, and it works well for him because I couldn't imagine him in any other type of clothes. His personality isn't perfect, but that's alright with me, because we're not meant to be perfect. Syros is a charming man, he's naturally funny and talented in escaping and seems like the kinda guy that's meant to only exist in fantasies- but here he is- right next to me, on the run from the prison-keepers called my creators.

They kept me in pretty harsh conditions after I turned 7, when I began to dream of the world outside that I knew hardly anything about- besides examining the small region of wonder surrounding my window, well as far as I could see, which wasn't very far, considering it was all fake to prevent any underlying desire to explore. I lived in total view of the scientists. It was a well-built, but monotonous home. It was styled respectively with a theme designed around their taste, not mine. The house was a two-story building and only one window, which was located 'generously' in my room. The rest of the place was wired with cameras for surveillance, and a 'mommy' who cared not for my comfort ability, only for my health. She would visit me every once in a great while, which was only when I had complained about illnesses.

That was 10 years ago, anytime following that was spent in a rinky-dink shack stranded in the middle of a wide area of land meant to create a sense of survival. The day I turned eight, they knocked me out with a sleeping pill, blinded me completely, threw me in a transportation vehicle, and deported me to the shack where they gave me a crate of food, water, climate-fitting clothes, things to start a fire, and a dagger as well as a large machete to murder anything that threatened my life with so I can either eat them or continue my cruel existence.

The day I hatched my escape plan, was they day I had also discovered _their_ plans; plans to kill me and harvest my records and bodily information in a month, since they had "…grown tired of watching me do the same thing day in and day out" (As described by the lead scientist, Dr. Michael Sandoqowitz, the man who 'designed' or 'created' me.) It was the day I had decided to end this life, and begin a new one. One that I had dreamed of for so long since 1877, ten years ago, yes, it had been since then that I started to fantasize of real things, not things they had tried to implant within my unconscious mindset.

The weather was rather fine-looking that day, considering I found out what _would've been_ my fate, had I not decided my own afterwards. I was going to depart by faking disease from a scratch by some wild creature that attempted –and failed- to slaughter me. How it got infected I would say: "From the blood and filth that seeped through when I skinned it". The person that would check on me was a newly recruited nurse form Bulgaria, and was petrified when within the same room as I was, which left me at an advantage. He wasn't bad looking, so I took pity on him whilst my dagger would be lodged in his heart. Those last dying sounds never cease to arouse me, and so it was those sounds that I longed to hear.

Whenever I harmed any of the nurses or assistants, they would punish me severely and an alarm would be triggered. Afterwards, a door would open from the door; it would have been a basement entry if I had a real home to reside within, but a guard always came out to restrain me followed by Dr. Sandoqowitz with a syringe to ease my nerves and paralyze me temporarily, putting me to sleep so he could set me up with the help of an assistant and help bind me to the table in the "Time Out Room". Leather straps surrounded my limbs and waist to prevent any unwanted movement once he entered with either a needle to scratch me with or a whip to beat me as to force my (phony) apologies. Following the first few times, the pain of the castigations seemed to fade gradually.

Subsequently, I was going to sever the dagger in half via bending it, since it was a rather cheaply made shape of sheet metal. Although it was accurate and sturdy, it had recently showed signs of rust, and that made it a better weapon to kill Sandoqowitz with. Submissively, I was going to accept my punishment, but keep the dagger half in my sleeve so that I'm able to free myself from the straps, steal his choice of punishment tool, and use it against him to gain my opportunity of murder. Then was the time to retrieve his key that hung around his vulnerable neck.

Once I got outside the facility in which I was kept, I was to run as far and as swiftly as bodingly possible to the nearest station and find my way to Syros, who had already escaped when I was 16 and hopefully awaited me on the outskirts of Berlin, which was about 15 miles southwest form where the facility was. He advised me to stay alert when trying to find his location; a small, abandoned blue-gray building that was dilapidated but perfectly safe for us to stay whilst we waited for some friends of his to help us out. He's so nice, I can't wait to see him again, but until then, I have to keep the plan a secret.


End file.
